


Baise Moi

by chewysugar



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, BDSM, Ball Gag, Bondage, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Rings, Dirty Talking Wade, Domestic Squabbling, Dominant Wade, Face Slapping, Facials, Hand Jobs, Kink, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Spanking, Spideypool - Freeform, Submissive Peter, Toys, Vibrators, Web Handcuffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:10:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6267175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewysugar/pseuds/chewysugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter has been neglecting Wade lately. Wade decides to play a game to remind him how good he has it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baise Moi

If Wade could say one thing in favor of himself, it’s that he wasn’t the kind of person to go around breaking promises. At least to anybody other than The Avengers, S.H.I.E.L.D., The X-Men, X-Force, X-Factor, the Fantastic Four, the IRS, the FBI, the CIA, the NSA, the RCMP, M-I6 and the entire lineup of the mid-Nineties MTV VJ’s.

When it came to people who really, really mattered to him, he always gave it the old college try to do his best to keep to his word. 

And when it came to one Peter Parker, Wade never, ever broke a promise, not even if it meant having to let a U-Haul full of Skrull spies escape across the Estonian-Latvian border. 

Therefore, whenever Peter didn’t keep to his word, not only did it annoy Wade to no end, it also deeply hurt him. Given that Peter was breaking his promises more often that not lately, Wade was constantly walking around feeling as if he’d had his heart twisted by a grain thresher.

He paced around the loft apartment that he and Peter had shared for over a year now, trying hard not to seethe and failing spectacularly at it. Outside the big window, the sun was setting over New York City. The sky was layered in hues of orange, red and yellow. Shadowy shapes of skyscrapers and office buildings loomed in front of the tequila sunset sky, silent and dark. 

Wade kept glancing at the skyline, expecting to see Peter swinging between the concrete mountains of the industrial jungle.

“I can’t fucking believe you sometimes,” Wade said to the Spider-Man plushie clutched in a death grip in his right hand. In lieu of Peter actually being present, the dopey little textile was the next best thing. “I told you three goddman days ago that I wanted us to order some Chinese and marathon _Orange is the New Black_ together—maybe even have some Netflix sex—and you go and fuck it up again!”

“But Wade!” Wade imitated Peter’s voice, albeit in an exaggerated soprano, “I am the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man! I must defend New York City with the power of my junk-squeezing underoos lest the responsibility fall to one of the twenty-six dozen other super humans living in the Big Apple!” 

“You promised!” Wade held the plushie up to his face and glared into its white eyes. “I may have lapses in memory, judgment, morals, ethics and spoiler alerts, but we were swinging over the Bronx watching the slumdogs have a dance-off and you said you’d stay in tonight to Netflix and chill with me!”

Wade switched back to the sing-song parrot of his boyfriend’s voice. “You don’t understand! I have reason to believe that Red Skull is plotting with the love child of Stegron and Anti-Venom to assassinate the Baby Jesus!”

“I. DON’T. CARE!” Wade flung the Spider-Man plush clear across the loft. It bounced pitifully off of the cupboard over the sank before landing in the basin. “I MATTER MORE!” For a moment, Wade stood there, breathing heavily, hands balled into fists at his sides. The stubby blue legs of the plushie were sticking up out of the sink.

“Aw geez,” Wade muttered. He crossed the loft and retrieved the Etsy creation from the empty sink. “Now look at what you made me do, Petey.” He looked back down at the white eyes of the thing. Wade had never noticed before just how lopsided the artisan had sewn the eyes onto the front of the plushie. 

Wade’s anger took a momentary stumble down the stairs before getting right back up with a vengeance. He knew it was pointless to rant and rave at the dopey little plushie, but he couldn’t very well have these conversations with Peter of late. Peter always took the submissive turn whenever Wade got irritated or angry, his eyes going downcast as he apologized for yet another promise not kept. Of course, he would immediately follow this up by tumbling into bed, saying how tired he was.

Wade squeezed the chubby body of the plushie until it resembled a hair scrunchie. He shook with vehement rage at the impossibility of it all. With a cry of anger, Wade flung the thing from him again. It sailed through the air just as the door to the loft opened.

Peter stopped just over the threshold, his brown eyes following the stuffed effigy of himself as it landed silently on his and Wade’s bed. He glanced at Wade, gave him a nervous smile and said, “Ahehehe…uh, honey I’m home?”

Wade growled in response and crossed his arms over his chest. “Your dinner’s on the table.”

“Really? Thanks babe. I’m famish—

Peter stopped in his tracks in front of the circular, second-hand table. “Hey, there’s no dinner here.”

“No shit, Sherlock. We were supposed to have the first half of column A and column B from Grand Sichaun’s delivery while watching Piper Chapman be a sassy, badass bitch, remember?” 

Peter’s face predictably fell. This close up, Wade could see that he really did look bushwhacked. There were dark circles under his eyes and he needed a shave. Wade was open to the argument that Peter really had just been too busy for him.

He was just tired of ceding that point.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, looking at his socks. “It’s just been really crazy lately.” He looked at Wade from beneath his eyelashes, his lips drawn in a guilty pout.

But Wade wasn’t having it, not this time. “Don’t even pull that look with me, Peter Parker.” 

Peter’s exhaustion and guilt vanished in an instant, a clear sign that he wasn’t as contrite as Wade thought he ought to be. He scowled and said, “What look?”

“That slapped puppy-dog look. It’s not going to work tonight.”

“Sue me for having been involved in stopping HYDRA goons from trying to assassinate a convoy of international ambassadors. Next time I’ll just let them die and see World War 3 happen.”

Wade glared at Peter, his adrenaline and anger pumping. He could hear a thousand voices in his head, crawling over the surface of his constantly damaged and constantly healing brain like an army of fire ants. 

But he’d been with Peter too long to pay and heed to them.

At least to the ones not focused on the present. 

“Do me a favor next time and send a text or a voicemail or a Snapchat.” 

“Wade, it was all over the news.” 

“I shouldn’t have to hear from fucking Chuck Scarborough about why you’re blowing off plans we made for the eighth goddamn time!”

Peter stared at Wade, eyes blazing with indignant anger. Wade half expected Peter to lash out, but he was too familiar with this old song and dance to actually believe that would happen. 

Predictably, annoyingly, Peter deflated. “I was dealing with HYDRA,” he repeated, as if that was supposed to make it better.

Wade shook his head in disbelief. “You promised…" 

“Well this was more important, Wade!” Peter snapped, and then froze as he heard his own words.

Wade felt as if he’d been plowed by a wrecking ball ridden by a naked Miley Cyrus. He turned away from Peter, wrestling with a myriad of emotions, trying to get a handle on the anger and hurt before he did what he was famous for and reacted before thinking. 

The sun had finally dipped over the horizon, leaving the loft lit only by the pinpricks of light that made up the cosmos of New York City at dusk.

Wade could feel Peter’s gaze on him as he stood with his arms braced on the countertop. He didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want to see the apology he knew he’d find in Peter’s big brown eyes.

Peter’s feather-light touch on Wade’s shoulder made the merc flinch away. “Wade…” Peter sounded as if his heart would break at any moment, but Wade was still grappling with the part of himself that wanted to remain justifiably hurt.

Finally, when the silence became too agonizing, Wade looked around. Peter had the slapped-puppy dog look on his face again. But he still didn’t seem to get it.

“You know I’ve got responsibilities,” he said, his voice low. “I’m sorry that I didn’t keep my promise again, but when something as big as HYDRA comes up I can’t just look the other way.” 

“There are other heroes,” Wade said flatly. He was starting to get annoyed again, only this time it was channeling itself into something more creative.

Peter sighed. “What, you want to be the center of everything I do, Wade?” He blinked again, and then groaned. Once more he’d said something needlessly ugly. And in doing so he’d put the nail in the coffin of the sentence that Wade had started to formulate.

Growling, Wade spun around, seized Peter by both shoulders and backwards-marched him to the middle of the loft. 

“What the hell?” Peter stared at Wade in confusion, only avoiding tripping over his own feet as a result of his honed reflexes. 

Wade looked Peter dead in the eye and in a tone of command said one word.

“Kneel.”

A flicker of fear passed over Peter’s eyes. His cheeks darkened with a rush of lust. Keeping his eyes fixed on Wade’s he obediently got down on his knees.

“Don’t move.” Wade’s voice was low, husky with a menacing command that he usually reserved for low-lifes on the receiving end of his katanas.

This was something new that they had only recently started exploring together—a subversion of the typical roles they assumed whenever they fucked.

Wade was in control now, and Peter knew better than to challenge at the use of the buzzword they’d agreed upon. Wade had initiated, and Peter had no choice but to obey and hope that the bigger man would be lenient.

Which, of course, Wade had absolutely no intention of being. 

He moved to the big windows and pulled the curtains shut, blocking out the ambient light of the city beyond, leaving the loft momentarily plunged in darkness. Wade moved around the open room, turning on each of the light switches until Peter was left in the middle of the suite on his knees. 

He was perfectly on display and entirely at Wade’s mercy.

His expression impassive, Wade stripped his sweatshirt over his head and tossed it into the corner. He stalked across the floor, his eyes keeping Peter immobile in their intensity. Like this, Wade didn’t feel the sting of his continuous pain; he didn’t feel the weight of his own thoughts or the sting of self-consciousness. He had no scars, physical or otherwise. He was master, he was dominant. He was devourer and Peter his delectable morsel.

“I’m not asking to be the center of your universe.” Wade’s voice was a sensuous sotto voce as he slowly circled Peter like a hunting bird of prey. “I’m not that selfish. All I want is to be an important part of it. You’re the thing that has the power to make me laugh and cry and get angry or feel hurt. I thought that I at least meant that much to you too, Peter.”

Peter’s eyes shone with shame. “You do,” he rasped. “I’m sorry, Wade.”

Wade knew that he’d made Peter feel the weight of his recent neglect with just his words alone. But this wasn’t about talking it out, not anymore. They’d gone down that road and it had only gotten them into multiple crashes.

With admitted difficulty Wade forced down the rushing tenderness he felt at Peter’s heartfelt apology and slapped him across the face.

Peter gasped, his head jerking sideways more from surprise than anything; Wade would never use enough force to seriously hurt the man he loved. In any case, Peter knew the word to utter should he feel Wade had gone too far.

Still, Wade couldn’t help the flutter of regret that leapt into his throat when Peter looked at him with shocked, brimming eyes. The red imprint of Wade’s hand stained his cheek, and Wade completely expected Peter to immediately jump to the refuge of their safe word.

Then something in his eyes changed, darkening the soulful brown with lust. He’d been a very disobedient boy and he was going to be punished and he knew it.

That look sent a jolt of heat directly to Wade’s groin. He firmly took Peter’s chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing him to not look anywhere else but directly into Wade’s blue eyes. “Did I say you could talk?”

“N-no.”

“No, what?”

“No sir.”

Wade smirked and let Peter’s face fall from his grip. “You’ve been a very thoughtless spider. If you’re not going to appreciate me when I’m around, then I think it’s time to remind you of just how damn good you’ve really got it with me.”

Peter tensed. “Wade don’t—

Again Wade slapped him. “You're really running your mouth too much for my liking.” He spun on his heel and strode to his nightstand. He opened the third drawer and extracted a bright red ball gag. He turned back to Peter, who was shaking from the exhilarating sting of Wade’s second slap.

“I don’t think you should ruin that shirt either,” Wade remarked. He padded to the kitchen, retrieved a pair of orange-handled scissors from the junk drawer, and walked back to his kneeling slave. 

Peter shivered as Wade slid the blades of the scissors under the back of his shirt, the cold metal ghosting against his flesh.

“You shouldn’t ruin this shirt,” Wade amended as he cleanly sliced the fabric up to the neck, “but as your master, I’ve got every right to, don’t I?”

“Yes sir.”

Wade smirked. The torn shirt slipped from Peter’s body to the floor. Not content with stopping there, Wade made quick work of snipping trough Peter’s belt and the back of his jeans. He tore the denim wider with his bare hands until Peter was completely exposed at the back. 

“What is this?” Wade ran one finger over Peter’s spine to the hem of his briefs. “I thought we agreed that you were going to go commando until further notice?”

Peter didn’t answer right away. His breathing was slow and deep from anticipation, and Wade could have well believed that he hadn’t really processed his question.

But this wasn’t the time for logic or leeway.

Wade curled his fingers into Peter’s brown locks and jerked his head backward with enough force to make Peter gasp. Ochre eyes glazed with lust stared into Wade’s, pulling him down to a near-oblivion. In a voice barely above a whisper Wade said, “I asked you a question. Did I or did I not tell you to not wear anything under your pants until I said otherwise?” 

Peter swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You did.”

Another jerk of Peter’s head. The smaller man winced and amended, “You did, sir.”

“Then why didn’t you listen to me?”

Peter’s pupils dilated until all there was of his warm, brown eyes was a ring of iris. “Because I’m a bad boy, sir,” he replied, his voice hitching with consuming want. 

This was his giving Wade the go-ahead. When the ball gag covered Peter’s mouth he wouldn’t be able to give voice to their safety word anymore. He was putting his trust completely in Wade, and that alone made warm affection bloom in Wade’s chest. Peter had that power, especially when he gave permission with such raw language.

Wade’s cock filled with heat as his blood rushed to his groin. “Yes,” he whispered, still craning Peter’s neck back and looking into those needy eyes. “You are a very, very bad boy, Peter.” And with that, Wade slipped the ball gag over Peter’s head, the red rubber orb stifling any further sound.

Wade crouched down behind Peter and snaked his arms around the other man’s body. His fingertips ghosted over Peter’s skin, up the tight muscles of his abdomen to his collarbone. Peter’s heart was beating in aroused expectation, and when Wade finally brushed his thumbs over Peter’s nipples, Peter let out a groan that was stifled by the ball gag around his pretty lips.

“What’s this?” Wade pressed his mouth against Peter’s ear, his whispered breaths playing across the sensitive flesh of his lobe. “You’re hard here.” Wade pinched Peter’s tightening nubs, earning a grunt from the other man. “But that can’t be…” Wade trailed one hand down the front of Peter’s chest and to the crotch of his jeans. He squeezed the bulge in Peter’s pants while he continued to pinch and tease Peter’s nipples. “You’re hard here too. I don’t understand. I thought people only got that excited by people who mattered to them?”

“Mm. Mmm.” Peter made a feeble attempt to cant his hips into Wade’s touch. His arms jerked. Wade’s eyebrows contracted, and he stood up, leaving Peter hard and wanting below him.

“You’re not supposed to move,” Wade said as he retrieved a web shooter from Peter’s nightstand. “Are you trying to make this worse for yourself, Peter?” Wade smirked as he launched a ball of webbing at the back of Peter’s ankles. The sticky substance spread, keeping Peter’s feet stuck firmly to the floor. “I think you are,” Wade went on. He seized Peter’s wrists, jerked them behind his back and made a thick shackle out of the webbing. “Much better.”

Wade stood in front of his slave—Peter’s nipples were rosy pebbles on his chest. His face was red, both from desire and from Wade’s earlier blows. Saliva gathered around the ball gag, a thin, clear stream of it drooling onto Peter’s chin.

“God, look at you,” Wade breathed. He cupped himself through his own jeans, grinning when heard the low moan in Peter’s throat. “You want this, don’t you?” Wade squeezed his clothed hardness, and Peter shivered his acquiescence. “Bad boys don’t get what they want, Peter.” Smirking at the frustration in Peter’s eyes, Wade returned to his nightstand drawer and retrieved one of his favorite toys.

Three long silver chains were connected to a central metal ring. Each chain ended in a small clamp encased in black rubber.

With his back still to Peter, Wade shook the chains, making sure that the other man knew what it was that he’d taken out of the third drawer. Peter groaned in response, and when Wade finally turned back to face him, it was to find Peter positively bristling with pent-up need. 

Wade walked slowly back to Peter, letting the clamps dangle in front of his eyes. One of the chains was far longer than the others, and Wade made a show of swinging this particular part of the toy back and forth. Peter followed it with his eyes, as if it were a hypnotist’s pendulum. His nostrils flared, and his muscles tensed.

Wade knew perfectly well that Peter could easily tear through his webbed restraints; he had the strength of ten men in one fist, after all. But it was part of the thrill for him as much as it was for Wade, this complete and utter surrender of control and power.

“So pretty and pink,” Wade whispered, pinching Peter’s right nipple. Peter grunted, and then groaned as Wade affixed the clamp to the erect peak. Wade tugged at the chain, making Peter whine. “I wonder what they’d all think if they could see the amazing Spider-Man on his knees like this?” Wade clamped Peter’s left nipple. “I wonder what they would think if they knew that their friendly neighborhood hero is just a dirty, little slut?” Wade gripped the longest chain between his fingers and tugged just hard enough to make Peter wince.

The smaller man moaned as Wade continued to tease and torment him with the dangling chain. His face was completely flushed, his lips and chin slicked with spit as he breathed around the ball gag.

“I think you already know what I’m going to do with this,” Wade said, letting the third clamp fall flush against Peter’s body. “But first, I think you’re a little bit overdressed.” He gripped the edges of Peter’s torn jeans and, as easily as if the denim were tissue paper, ripped them completely apart, yanking them out from under Peter’s knees.

Wade’s eyes traveled to the lump in the front of Peter’s underwear. He licked his lips at the sight of the damp spot leaking through the front of the dark fabric. It was all Wade could do to stop himself from tearing Peter’s briefs off and sucking him dry. Just thinking about the fullness of Peter, of the warm, salty taste of him was almost enough to make Wade completely give up his own control.

He growled. “Filthy boy. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?” Wade stooped and ripped Peter’s briefs from his body.

Peter gasped as best he could through the ball gag at the ferocity of Wade’s sudden action. His cock stood hard and flushed, the head already slick with precum. The heady smell of Peter’s arousal hit Wade like a punch to the gut and he had to clench his jaw to keep from diving straight for the steely temptation of Peter’s cock. 

“Just as bad as you are,” Wade growled, giving Peter’s hardness a slap on the slippery glans.

“Mmph!” Peter groaned.

Wade traced his fingertips over the underside of Peter’s length. “Bet you’d like me to take this in my fist, huh Petey? Maybe jerk you off until you spurt all over my hand?”

“Mmm!”

“Yeah, of course you do, you dirty slut. Probably want me to put my lips over that pretty pink head and suck all that hot come from your nuts. Is that what you want, dirty boy?”

“Mm. Mmm.”

Wade smirked and let his hand fall away from Peter’s fevered, leaking hardness. “Too bad,” he said. Peter whined, shaking with frustration. “You’ve already made it clear today that I mean nothing to you,” Wade went on, “so I don’t know why you’d want me getting you off like that.”

The words were spoken with just a little too much venom. Wade’s real hurt at Peter’s neglect had bled through into their game. He felt guilt insinuate itself into his mind. 

Gently, Wade cupped Peter’s cheek in his hand and looked into the endless universe of Peter’s eyes. He wanted him to know that he was sorry, and it was a testament to the very core of their relationship, of their unwavering devotion and understanding of each other that Peter knew exactly what Wade was trying to convey. He gave the smallest of nods, which Wade returned with the tiniest of smiles.

“Good boy,” he said, stroking Peter’s hair as he righted himself. “Time for a treat, I think.”

He returned to his nightstand and retrieved a black, rubber ring affixed with a cylinder at the top that was covered in small, rubber spines. 

Wade was about to turn around, but stopped, and grinned. He was still painfully hard, and could feel his restraint of the situation slipping, especially now that Peter was bared fully to him. But he wasn’t ready to let this end. Not just yet. Not until he’d fully enforced his importance on the man he loved. 

He put the cock ring into his pocket and took a blue egg vibrator from the drawer. Then he walked back to Peter, stopping to collect the remains of his torn t-shirt from the floor.

Peter was still agonizingly hard, and, like the good boy Wade had praised him for being, hadn’t moved an inch.

Wade stroked Peter’s cheek with his thumb. “Those goddamn eyes,” he whispered. “Do you have any idea how hard you make me when you look at me like that?”

“Mmhm.” Peter inclined his head. His chin was coated with saliva from how long his mouth had been obstructed by the ball gag. 

Wade made a show of fondling his own dick through his jeans. His nuts were hard as rocks; already he felt like he could come just with a single stroke to his own flesh. But again, this was about control, and if Peter could control his sense of self-preservation at Wade’s mercy, then Wade could control his own need to unload hot spunk all over Peter’s pretty face. 

Peter’s throat contracted at the sight of Wade’s continued groping of his denim-covered dick. 

Wade grinned wickedly, and made slow work of undoing his belt.

“You want to see me, don’t you?” Wade tossed his belt onto the floor in front of Peter. “You want to see my big, thick cock, huh Petey?”

“Mmmm.”

Wade smirked, and popped the button of his jeans.

“You want to see me naked?”

“Mhmm.”

Wade slowly drew his zipper down. He let the denim slide over his hips and ass, but otherwise held it up. He stalked towards Peter, circling him, taking in the sight of his clamped nipples and gagged mouth, of his aching, rigid length.

Wade stopped behind Peter. He still held the torn remains of Peter’s shirt in one hand. He leaned down, pressed his lips to Peter’s ear and whispered, “Too bad.” Then, grinning at the frustrated cries issuing from behind the ball gag, Wade wrapped the fabric around Peter’s eyes, tying it off at the back of his head. Then, and only then, once Peter’s vision was completely obscured, Wade let go of his jeans, freeing his rigid cock.

He grabbed the vibrator and the cock ring from his pocket and slowly walked to face Peter again.

“You lied to me,” Wade said. “You don’t want to see me. You made that perfectly clear today.” He stood before Peter, taking in the sight of him bound and gagged and blinded. His nipples were red from the clamps, but nowhere near as red as his cock, which was flush with his body. 

“Fuck, you should see how hard my dick is right now,” Wade rasped. He fisted his turgid length with his free hand. “Stroking it feels so good. So. Fucking. Good.” His whole body was aflame with sensation as he continued to slowly jack himself off from base to glans.

Wade knelt down on one knee in front of Peter, letting go of his raging hard-on. He replaced the emptiness with Peter’s full balls, fondling them in his fingers, smirking like Satan as Peter moaned.

The third clamp was still hanging loosely by Peter’s hard, leaking cock. Wade took the chain and pinched the clamp over the wrinkled flesh between Peter’s nuts. Peter cried out at the new feeling, but not nearly as much as when Wade tugged on the silver ring that connected all three chains. Peter threw his head back, his moans frantic as Wade tormented his nipples and nuts all at once.

Moisture oozed out of Wade’s slit at the sight of the man he loved so wanton and uninhibited. And when Wade turned the egg-shaped vibrator on and pressed it to the clamp pinching Peter’s nutsack, Peter let out a scream that was muffled only by the ball gag. Wade had to tug on his own balls to stop himself from jizzing all over the floor at that.

“If you think that was worth screaming about,” Wade said in a ragged voice, “then you’ll love this.” Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he sheathed the vibrating cock ring over Peter’s sensitive flesh. Peter twisted and moaned, but obediently stayed on his knees as they toy came to rest at the base of his cock, the spined cylinder flush with the top of his aching nuts. 

“I could turn this on right now,” Wade whispered. “Would you like that, Tiger? Would you like to feel this buzzing through that pretty prick and those plump balls?”

Peter let out a weak, “Mmhmm.”

Wade smirked and stood up. “We’ll take a rain-check on that. For now…there’s something else I think you deserve.” He walked behind Peter and then shoved him in the small of the back. Peter fell forward, only stopping himself from landing on his face by craning his neck away from the floor.

“I love this view of your ass,” Wade said, his cock twitching as he drank in the sight of Peter’s smooth, firm butt. Driven by lust, Wade slapped one firm globe. Peter cried out and twitched. Again Wade spanked him, this time laying his palm to Peter’s other ass cheek. With each consecutive blow, Peter cried out. He ground his hips into the floor, rubbing his aching cock against the only available surface to him. The sounds of Peter’s moans filled the air along with the slap of Wade’s palm against his ass.

When both of Peter’s cheeks were flushed red, Wade relented. He was panting, more from his own possessive need than from exertion. Peter lay sprawled out before him, the skin of his ass red as a peach. Wade got down on one knee, his fingers trailing over the reddened patches of Peter’s backside. He traced a path to Peter’s channel, his fingers barely skimming the smooth, secret flesh.

“I could finger-fuck you right now, Tiger,” Wade rasped. “But you don’t deserve it.” Wade reached around and grabbed the discarded vibrator. Then he licked his fingers, coating them in his own spit and slicked Peter’s hole, the tight ring of muscle yielding to the probing of his digits. 

Once Peter was sufficiently stretched, Wade said, “Deep breath honey buns.” Then, without any preamble, he slipped the vibrator into Peter’s pucker and switched it on.

The groan that Peter let out sent a jolt straight to Wade’s dick. The merc smiled and got to his feet. Peter writhed and moaned, rutting into the floor as the teased his inner muscles.

Stooping, Wade seized Peter by the shoulders and pulled him back to a sitting up position, forcing the vibrator deeper into him as he did so. Peter’s cock was flushed and leaking, his balls plumped from the pressure of unreleased seed.

“You look so good like this,” Wade rasped. He took his cock in hand and stood directly in front of Peter, pumping his rigid shaft, slapping it against Peter’s face to let him know what it was that he could either see nor hear nor touch. “Ugh, fuck, Peter.” Gone was the hurt and anger of having been taken for granted. After this, he knew Peter would cling to him like a symbiote. 

Wade panted, jerking himself off with frenzied motions, squeezing precum from his slit. Peter was groaning, squirming as the vibrator continued to torment his insides. Wade thought about what it would be like to switch places with the toy—what it would feel like to be engulfed by Peter’s tight heat for once, to feel those inner walls squeezing around him, milking him for all he had to give.

Wade’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. He pumped his aching cock one more time and gripped his balls. In spite of the blinding pleasure, he forced himself to look at Peter as he came, to look at the flushed skin of his face as he painted it with ropes of his own hot cum. Peter groaned, thrashing as if he would free himself of all the restraints Wade had put him in.

But still he remained obedient, and it was that subservience that wrung the final, shuddering tremor from Wade’s body.

His mind a haze, his knees weak, Wade looked down at his handiwork, at the pearly ejaculate he’d coated Peter’s face and chest in. 

Wade smiled.

But he wasn’t done with Peter just yet.

“Last leg of the race,” he whispered as he stooped. Peter’s nostrils flared. Then his whole body spasmed as Wade hit the small button on the spined black cylinder of the cock ring. A new vibration filled the air, one that Wade knew was wreaking havoc on Peter’s nuts and dick.

Wade lingered only to watch in fascinated interest as Peter’s cock twitched as, once more he was denied release by the tightness of the vibrating rubber ring.

Then he collected his jeans from the floor and turned away, leaving Peter a blind mess of sex.

Twenty minutes later, having listened to the hum of the vibrators and Peter’s groans, whimpers and cries, Wade knelt down before the man he loved. He reached behind Peter, shut the vibrator off and slowly, gently pulled it from Peter’s body.

Peter didn’t respond, not that Wade blamed him after what he’d been through.

The cock ring came next. Peter breathed hard through his nose as the vibrating torment that had been playing at his nuts and dick finally died. Smiling gently, Wade untied the torn shirt from Peter’s head.

“I’ve got the lights on, so make sure you open your eyes slowly.” 

Peter’s eyes were closed. He didn’t say a word. 

Wade began to feel slightly worried. He undid the strap at the back of Peter’s head and pulled the ball gag from his mouth. A spidery line of saliva trailed from the rubber orb. Peter’s lips were swollen, his mouth and chin slicked with spit.

“Peter?” Wade wiped Peter’s lips with his thumb. “Hey, Tiger, are you okay?”

Still, Peter did not respond for a moment.

Then a languorous smile spread over his face, and he nodded once.

Wade breathed a sigh of relief. “You scared me, baby.”

“M’sorry.” Peter’s voice was weak and rife with exhaustion.

“Do you think you can break out of the webs?”

In response, Peter flexed the muscles of his shoulders, and a second later his arms fell to his sides and he toppled forward into Wade’s arms.

Wade chuckled, petting Peter’s hair. “You’re gonna get come all over me." 

“Oh, imagine what that must feel like,” Peter said into Wade’s shoulder.

“C’mon bug boy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Don’t think I can make it to the shower on my own.”

Wade scooped Peter into his arms and stood up. “Thank God I’m here, then,” he said, smiling at Peter as he carried him to the bathroom.

They showered for a long time, Wade holding Peter in his arms as the hot water beat down on them. Mostly because he wanted to hold Peter close, but also because he wasn’t sure Peter was capable of standing up on his own.

Peter had been the very definition of a champ during their playtime, and Wade would have had to have been more out of mind than usual to have not rewarded the man he loved by jerking him off as hot water beat down on their bodies. He savored the feeling of Peter’s skin against his, of each and every pant of Peter’s warm breath against his neck. And when Peter finally came with a cry and a shudder, Wade held him so tightly to his chest that air couldn’t pass between them.

Wade toweled Peter off, and then carried him back out of the loft, which was dark except for the television.

The covers of their bed were pulled back, just one of the many things Wade had seen to before he’d freed Peter. Wade gently laid Peter on the mattress, brushing his still-damp hair off of his forehead.

Peter’s eyes fluttered open, and he smiled up at Wade as he snuggled into bed. “Mmm. You got the heating pad for me.”

“Only the best,” Wade replied. He kissed Peter quickly on the top of the head. “And that’s not all.” Wade disappeared to the kitchen nook and came back with a steaming mug and a small plate, both of which he set down on the nightstand next to Peter. 

Peter smiled sleepily at him. “Tea?”

“Only the best,” Wade repeated. “Tea. Earl grey. Hot. With honey. And to eat you’ve got ‘Nilla Wafers and Nutella.” 

The loving smile Peter gave Wade almost brought the merc to his knees. Peter held his arms out in invitation, and Wade obliged, crawling across the bed to capture Peter’s lips in a deep, warm kiss.

“And for entertainment,” Wade said as he rolled over and grabbed the PS4 controller, “we’ve got the better half of the _The X-Files_.”

“What about _Orange is the New Black_?” 

Wade shrugged, tossing the controller onto his nightstand. “I decided I wasn’t in the mood.” He drew the covers over himself as the episode started, and held his arms open. Peter snuggled next to him in a split-second, tucking his head under Wade’s chin.

After a pause, Peter looked up at him and said, “Wade?”

“What’s up Tiger?”

“I love you very much. You know that, right?” 

Wade grinned down at Peter, kissed him once more and said, “Yeah. I know. I love you too. Doesn’t that just make use the luckiest fucking people in the universe?”

Listening to the steady beat of Wade’s heart, Peter couldn’t help but completely agree.


End file.
